The Third Successor
by FadingIndigoShadow
Summary: We all love Near and Mello, but why are they always fighting? And did L really intend for either of them to succeed him? I really do apologise for this fic. Maybe I will get better slowly, hai?
1. Chapter 1

The Third Successor

**Disclaimer: I invented deathnote! Sorry, just felt like a change. . . Of course I didn't *sob* nor do I own the characters. . .or japan. . . or an anime studio. . . or anything remotely cool, so it wouldn't really be worth suing me. Enjoy!**

The girl sketched furiously, digging her pencil deep into the cream paper and rapidly sweeping lines across the page. She squinted, turning the sketch pad upside down to look at it, and returned to her obsessive drawing. Slowly, the outlines of wings grew: huge, arching angel's wings, made soft and beautiful by the shadowy charcoal. Attached to them, a beautiful boy gazed hopefully up at the sky, a single tear adorning his flawless face.

"It's unnatural!! Can't you see the way she looks at you? More like an old woman than a child. She never plays with other children, she never makes mistakes. She just watches you, calculating, analysing! I'm sick of it! She's a witch!"

The voice was coarse with repulsion, booming up the stairs into her room. The girl ripped out the page from her sketch pad and crumpled the drawing, hurling it in a ball against the wall. She leant her cheek against the cool window sill, allowing her red hair to fall across her face and hide her tear-filled eyes. Miserably, the girl dropped her sketch book, reaching instead for the long red ribbon in her pocket. She ran it through her fingers, watching the light sparkle off it, watching it curl over her fingers, thinking of very little at all.

Then the bombshell came.

"What am I supposed to do about it? I've got nowhere to send her! Have you heard what she's like at school? How is she going to find a job? She's a drain, on everything, but I've got no choice! She's my sister's child, James! The least I can do for Marie is give that thing a roof over her head. Once she's sixteen it's over, I swear."

The girl froze. For all of two minutes, she considered. Her face was set now, the melancholy gone. Something new rose in her eyes. It was a decision.

The room was quite bare. The girl stood up and twisted her hair into a simple knot. Then she went to her cupboard and took out two dresses, folding them up neatly with a pair of slippers and an ivory chess set. Lightly, she skipped down the stairs, not even bothering to count them, skillfully avoiding the creaks. The argument raged on in the dining room, but the girl was not listening any longer. She took from the cupboard a carrier bag and a tin of rice, leaving the open wallet untouched. Instead, she reached into the back of the cupboard, moving tools and food boxes aside carelessly. There it was: a gold box in one corner of the cupboard. The girl took it out smoothly and placed it in her pocket, closing the cupboard noiselessly.

Back in her bedroom, the girl filled the carrier bag with her plunder, reaching at the last minute for her sketch pad and charcoal. She did not hesitate as she crossed to the wide window, swinging the bag on her arm as she hefted it open. Her small frame struggled with the heavy glass, but it grated open smoothly enough. She climbed up onto the sill like a monkey, risking one last glance around the house she had lived in for the last five years. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to call it home.

Kaita clutched her bag and jumped.

**Yay! I imagine Kaita to be about seven, with long curly red hair. At the moment her auntie dresses her up in cute dresses, but that's all about to change! This is my first fic. . .so please be kind XD. I'll carry on if I get any nice reviews, or if it really bugs me ;). Don't worry, I plan for her to grow up fast and yes, I promise this is connected to deathnote. . .if very very remotely *blushes*. Bye bye reader-sans! **


	2. Chapter 2

**It bugged me. I don't own deathnote, but Kaita is my character :). Any paternership ideas?? Hehehe . . . enjoy. **

Kaita dangled her legs over the edge of a high railway bridge, ignoring the whistles of trains below her. She didn't feel at all nervous, knowing that at this angle the odds of her falling off were below 5%. She played with her red ribbon, watching the colours that the setting sun made on it, coiling and uncoiling the thread in her hands. A spicy dusk was filling the air: it was at least time to find a place to stay. A squat jewellers shop challenged her from the other side of the bridge, its shuttered windows menacing. She knew the rational, sensible, planned thing to do, and also that she was far to curious to follow her own plan exactly. There was nothing for it - she would just have to look inside before she parted with her treasure forever. Perhaps then she could sell up and get some food.

The decision made, Kaita dug out the gold box from her carrier bag. Inside, a locket rested, its hinges stiff and gnarled. Kaita hesitantly reached out and did what had always been strictly forbidden. Even though the locket strictly belonged to her, she had only seen it only once, let alone worn it or held it. She used her fingernails to wrestle it open, digging out a small piece of note paper inside.

_What task is this?_

_To describe you, the indescribable - _

_Where could I begin?_

_You are the taste of sunsets_

_And a white feather tracing the contours of my unworthy face_

_You are the dream that I cling to, sobbing_

_Shutting my eyes in defiance _

_Of the cruel sun _

_Who came to tear me from your soft arms_

_You are the colour of dusk,_

_The feel of late clouds touching night's wide cloak_

_Your eyes!_

_Against them,_

_Those brightest stars_

_Which seem to pierce right through my soul_

_Are but lamp lights_

_But who else could I describe?_

_You have filled every atom of my being_

_Every breath that I take_

_Belongs only to you_

_And there is room for no other_

_Where shall I begin?_

_With your face? I know it by heart_

_The curve of your lips is my redemption_

_And the shadow of your brow_

_My only salvation_

Kaita's hands trembled as she read the note. She had expected something like it - perhaps a photograph, or a lock of hair. Still, she felt so intrusive that a blush rose in her cheeks and she had to stuff the poem quickly back into the locket. It wasn't well written, or beautiful - in fact, not much of it seemed very sensible. However, there was a warmth to it - she could sense that the words were true, however impossible that seemed. The locket was plain gold; excellent craftmanship, expensive, set with one huge ruby which stared out of it like a sentinel. Suddenly, she was desperate to be rid of the cumbersome thing. She would easily be able to work out its value from other items of sale. Kaita ran along the top of the bridge's railing and over the road, towards the open jeweller's door. Her ribbon unfurled in her hand like a warning banner.

**Thankyou reader-sans. If you hate it please do R+R and let me know :) This seems to be turning into quite a long fic. . . as nothing has happened in two pages XD. I like Kaita even if no-one else does, so r+r and I will love you forever for being the first ;). **


	3. Chapter 3

"I have a case for you, L."

A skinny ten-year-old boy sat dolefully in a busy noodle bar, his legs tucked under him oddly. His hair was a bizarre mass of spikes, his eyes shockingly huge and dark against his pale skin. In one hand he held an enormous gob-stopper, which had already made his tongue bleed. Utterly unconcerned by this, the boy continued to lick enthusiastically.

"I don't want any more cases. Detective work is not what I am meant for."

The boy sighed dramatically and shuffled around on his seat to reach the other side of the gob-stopper. His voice was heavy with depression.

"Perhaps I could become a scientist. I've been thinking for some time that the rules of quantum mechanics need correcting. . ."

A look of concern crossed Watari's stone face.

"Now L, we have been over this. No detective has a faultless record. If you are unhappy because you came to the wrong conclusion in the Schelberg case -"

"It was not the wrong conclusion. Somehow Marton was able to kill his wife without conventional methods. If I had had a little more time -"

"L. The son Paul was insane, he already had a record for -"

"I did not say that he didn't deserve to be in prison. I just said that he did not kill his mother. That was Marton." L sighed heavily and studied his gob-stopper. "Unless I was wrong, in which case. . .I do not deserve to be called the greatest detective. One day, I will discover the truth. There is a way in which Marton killed his wife, there must be. . ."

"L. You must stop dwelling on this. A criminal is behind bars."

The boy sighed again. "Yes." He did not sound as if he agreed at all.

Watari produced a newspaper cutting: "Mother Dies in a Horrendous Accident, Leaving Child to Mercy of Relatives". He tapped a small picture near the end of the article.

"You see this smiling girl? The photographer was unnerved by how cheery she was. This is Kaita Morenza. She went missing from her Aunt's house three days ago. Whilst her uncle has been fairly. . . uncooperative, her Aunt is very keen to find her. Apparently the girl could inherit quite a fortune in a few years. . ." Watari coughed, leaving the suggestion hanging. "Her teachers don't quite know what to make of her. . . spotless attendance and behavior, but none seem particularly fond of the girl. . . apparently they could never understand how she knew the answers to problems."

L raised his eyebrows in reluctant interest. "Perhaps she worked them out?"

Watari leaned forward conspiratorially. "Not conventional problems, L. University level math, underlying poetical meanings, discord within a class. . . there is a consensus that she was a fantastic cheater, but no one seems to have any idea how."

L looked at Watari's expressionless face over the rim of his gob-stopper. "You aren't planning to return this girl to her relatives, are you, Uncle Watari?"

Watari stood, his broad hat casting a shadow over his face.

"That depends. You know how to contact me. Be back at Whammy's in time for bed."

He left the bar, not having touched his meal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Reviews! :D:D:D:D *explodes with happiness* So L is on the case – but will he be able to recover from his depression in time? Kaita has sold her locket, for exactly the price she was seeking (she estimated its value from the others in the shop and went £200 over XD). What will happen next? A gang of Ben + Jerry's pirates of course!!**

"I could be useful."

Lin frowned down at the girl. What was it about her that was so persuasive? Her story didn't add up at all and the last thing the crew needed was a kid around to babysit – but then, she had been about the same age when she first took a ferry out. She smiled at the memory – while her uncle bellowed uselessly from the shore, the tiny Lin had squeeled in delight and proceeded to deliver the cargo with time to spare. She remembered the shocked faces of the recipents, who muttered darkly over the meaning of the courier. Yes, she had been out of control then – but not a complete nuisance, surely? Nineteen now, and the owner of her own ship, she allowed herself a certain amount of credit: this tiny redhead could shine up to be a decent sailor in a few years. And if not, what was lost? Surely the crew could handle one extra.

"You stand out too much. We'll have to find you some normal clothes next time we dock, okay, kid?"

The girl beamed in reply as she hopped nimbly aboard, swinging her bag by one hand.

Kaita sized up the crew carefully. Lin was a skinny girl, with angular features and jagged, badly cut obsidian hair concealed beneath a retro green hat. Her clothes were american: black pipe jeans and a sweater, with new converses. Despite her fragile frame, the crew looked up to her: there was no denying her skill, or her temper.

Pedro was cook, doctor and first mate. He was a pale, reserved man in his twenties, dressed in an all-purpose suit. His wife Rosie was a linguist – and (she winked) a dancer. She was another short woman, her huge black boots barely bringing her to Pedro's shoulder, but she was curvy and pretty. Her mouth was red and smiled easily, framed by blond ringlets which would have been repulsive on anyone else but suited her perfectly.

Isaac was cleaning his gun when Lin bought Kaita aboard. They were not introduced.

"Zanna- Suzanna- and Gareth are the last two," explained Lin, making up a bed in an alcove to her own cabin. "They're out on a job at the moment, but you'll meet them in a couple of days. If you stay with us, that is – this is only a trial, okay? You mess up, you cause trouble for my crew, and pa-dow – out. Okay? Clear?"

Kaita nodded sincerely, her eyes darting over the cabin in awe. One wall was covered in maps and charts, a black set of locked drawers in the corner. Hammocks hung from the ceiling, full of oddities – full hams, hatchets, teapots – anything, presumably, that there wasn't space for anywhere else. Her attention went to the last one, which was full of books.

"Oi!" Lin snapped her fingers commandingly. "You'll have time to explore later, or whatever. For now, make yourself useful to Pedro. He's been on at me for an assistant for months."

Kaita's eyes were streaming by her second onion. She didn't complain or pause in her work, holding her breath until the chopping was finished and she was allowed a break. The kitchen was a chaotic chamber full of smoke and flying food, making her eyes water. Pedro was sympathetic but unrelenting, preparing the dinner with casual skill. She could see that she had made a good impression, and so moved over to talk to him.

"Overwhelmed?" Pedro paused to wipe his brow. "I know our crew can seem a bit odd at first."

"Not really." Tired out by her work, Kaita decided against being careful. She wanted to be as honest as possible with her new family. "It's the standard freelance social group, as Keureller described – you've got (please don't be offended) your passionate leader, withdrawn intellectual, innocent and homely sister-figure, hardened soldier, and two workers – that's only on the surface, of course. I suppose."

Pedro stood perfectly still for a moment. Then he smiled. "You have read Keureller?" Kaita nodded, casting her eyes to the wooden floor. Perhaps she had gone too far. "A girl your age . . . I'm surprise you can read at all, let alone. . . what about Marsh? Have you read Marsh? His essay on truth -"

"It's beautiful." Kaita's eyes shined at the thought. "Second only to Francis Bacon."

Pedro laughed loudly, incredulously looking the girl up and down. Kaita tipped her head on one side – the man had not accused her of lying, or told her off for being so rude about the group. Could it be . . .

"Work," Pedro tapped her knuckles playfully with a wooden spoon. "Later, later we talk."

The meal was delicious. The crew ate around a huge table nailed to the floor, passing dishes across. Kaita mused again over the social groupings idea: there was only one element left. The unstable element. The protected one. Kaita licked her spoon and wondered who it was: Suzanna or Gareth. She was desperate to meet them.

"The french job is off," Lin announced glumly, prompting a sigh from the other three. Isaac took out his knife and began polishing it, his face drawn.

Rosie's face fell. "That's bad news. Do we still have our contact there? Can we get other jobs from them?"

"I'm not sure. But that isn't the worst of our problems." Lin leant back and put her feet up on the table. "If the ice catch us with this cargo, we'll never see the end of it."

Rosie giggled, taking a sip of wine. Kaita, who had followed the exchange eagerly, looked to Pedro for an explanation. He was frowning with disapproval at Lin's shoes.

"What do you reckon, Kaita?" Lin looked over to her seriously, waggling her eyebrows. "Whatever are we going to do with 100 tubs of Ben + Jerry's cookie-dough ice cream?"

After dinner, Kaita scrubbed down the floors and polished the rails under the stern supervision of Lin. Again, she worked with determination, refusing to complain once. Her hands were soon red, but she was proud of her contribution. The satisfaction of clean, well-kept boards spurred her on.

Eventually, Lin nodded her approval and sent her up. On the way to her cabin, Kaita was stopped by the hand of Pedro, who crouched down to talk to her. He was holding three or four paperbacks, and a bright language-dictionary.

"Here," he said, his voice almost gruff. "There is something Spanish in you – your hair, your style. Take these. Let me know what you think."

He strode away before she could speak a word of thanks.

Kaita took her books onto the open deck, reveling in her own freedom. Two of the books were philosophy, one poetry. She smiled into the darkness.

"Pablo Nerudo," she whispered, letting the name roll over her tounge.

Lin cherished the warmth of her study. She checked up on Zanna and helped herself to a tub of ice cream, sighing at the lost job. Her email bleeped.

A,

Sorry I haven't been in touch for a while. The computers are always taken and I've had a couple of cases which kept me busy. Just sending out an alert for a 6 year old girl – exceptional ability, the usual. Long curly red hair which she wears lose. Thought she might have gone looking for somewhere to stay near you. Let me know.

Are you coming to Whammy's for my birthday this year? Max and Watari are both missing you.

Yours sincerely,

L

Lin smiled at the blatant emotional blackmail. It was true that she hadn't seen her brother for a while, but that was to be expected. Whammy's was not somewhere she would be welcome, but she considered a meeting outside – perhaps she could take L out to a sweet shop and spend some quality time. It would be a chance to find out more about Kaita, who slept so sweetly nearby.

Lin smiled, thinking of something L had once told her. Hold all the cards, and let nothing show.


End file.
